Quotes About Christmas

Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents, grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.

Nobody spoke for a minute; then Meg said in an altered tone, You know the reason Mother proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it is going to be a hard winter for everyone; and she thinks we ought not to spend money for pleasure, when our men are suffering so in the army. We can't do much, but we can make our little sacrifices, and ought to do it gladly. But I am afraid I don't, and Meg shook her head, as she thought regretfully of all the pretty things she wanted.

That was a very happy breakfast, thoughthey didn't get any of it. And when they went away, leaving comfortbehind, I think there were not in all the city four merrier peoplethan the hungry little girls who gave away their breakfasts andcontented themselves with bread and milk on Christmas morning.

Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents, grumbled Jo, lying on the rug. It's so dreadful to be poor! sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress. I don't think it's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and other girls

Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents,' grumbled Jo, lying on the rug. 'It's so dreadful to be poor!' sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress.

With full hearts and tender eyes, While our little household angels, White and golden in the sun, Greet us with the sweet old welcome,— Merry Christmas

Il migliore e il più caro tra gli angeli di Natale si chiama carità. [...]. Va in giro il giorno di Natale compiendo buone azioni come questa e non rimane mai per ricevere ringraziamenti.

It was Tilly's turn to speak, and she startled them with her words, "I'm very glad tomorrow is Christmas, even though I shan't have any presents at all." These sentiments were spoken as the three little girls trudged home from school, and Tilly's words struck a cord of pity in the others. Kate and Bessy wondered how she could speak so cheerfully and be so happy when she was too poor to receive even the smallest of gifts on Christmas Day.

As I sat there, the town clock struck twelve, and the sound reminded me of the legend, which affirms that all dumb animals are endowed with speech for one hour after midnight on Christmas Eve, in memory of the animals who lingered near the manger when the blessed Christ Child was born.

I think there were not in all the city, four merrier people than the hungry little girls who gave away their bread and milk on Christmas morning.

Some of the highlanders considered the true Christmas to be on January fourteenth. Old Christmas, they called it, believing it was the day the magi visited the Christ child.

Money doesn't make you happy, Mom insists, whipping carrots and lettuce out of the cart. Money doesn't make you laugh when you're lonely, or make you full of contentment on Christmas morning.

If everyone could feel as I felt at that moment, dressed in my preppy sweater and McGregor coat and about to set out on a little journey with my Bambi-eyed girlfriend on Christmas Eve, all conflicts in the world would vanish. Mellow smiles would rule the earth.

Our president looks like a Christmas ham and talks like Chucky. We're America, bitch.

I also heard from readers whose parents had told the truth about Santa simply because they didn't want the inevitable unraveling of the Christmas myth to cast any doubt on the divinity of Jesus. I suppose some ironies are harder to detect than others.

Christmas was largely ignored in my heaven. Some people dressed all in white and pretended they were snowflakes, but other than that, nothing.

Mrs. Casey, do you love Christmas? Well you know, she answered reflectively, Christmas can be a sad time for people too. It's a remembering time for us older ones. We remember the people who are gone. Oh, I never thought of that, I told her in surprise. Well that's youth for you, she said; you don't start to look back over your shoulder until there is something to look back at, and around Christmas I tend to think of the Christmases past and the people gone with them.

I always remember your own grandmother, she continued, nodding her head, old Mrs. Taylor. She died on a Christmas Night. Oh, I said shivering. I wouldn't like to die on a Christmas Night. A good night to die, she smiled; they say that the gates of heaven are open on Christmas Night.

As she stood there looking about, that radio sound resolved into the bluff baritone of Burl Ives, encouraging all the world to have a holly jolly Christmas, and never mind it was the third week of March. The voice was coming from the attached garage, a dingy building with a single roll-up door and four square windows looking into it, milky with filth.

South Park started as a little video Christmas card.

At Christmas, 'It's a Wonderful Life' makes me cry in exactly the same places every time, even though I know it's coming.

Christmas means giving. The Father gave his Son, and the Son gave his life. Without giving there is no true Christmas, and without sacrifice there is no true worship.

The real spirit of Christmas lies in the life and mission of the Master.

At this time of Christmas, this season when gifts are given, let us not forget that God gave His Son, and His Son gave His life, that each of us might have the gift of eternal life.